


I've Got a Yellow Tulip And a Good Idea That Says You Should Put Some Cow Shit On It (Spring Fic)

by HighAtNine, parmemesan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Bad references, Florist Pete, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Swearing, Tattoo Artist Patrick, may get a different rating later, more tags as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighAtNine/pseuds/HighAtNine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/parmemesan/pseuds/parmemesan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>generic florist/tattoo artist au nice nice.</p><p>“You don’t look like someone that  tattoos people for a living.” As far as Pete could tell, he didn’t have any tattoos himself. But who knows, he could have a tattoo on his penis for all Pete knew. That will require further investigation, he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got a Yellow Tulip And a Good Idea That Says You Should Put Some Cow Shit On It (Spring Fic)

**Author's Note:**

> lmaoo heyy, first peterick fic, if anyone here has read my joshler fic (which i recommend lmao) i am not giving up on it, and v sorry i haven't written anything. i regret growing up and going to school.  
> cool cool, enjoy this shit, i wrote it at 2am.  
> 

Pete put down the last box of vases into the aisle. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, looking around at the now full shop. He couldn’t help but smile, looking at it. It’s his first ever store of his own. It’s kind of small, but Pete loved the coziness nonetheless. He spent quite a while making sure that the outside and the inside looked perfect. Pete was actually very proud of his craftsmanship, the pastel painted sign outside said _Peter’s Poppies, Petunias, Pansies, Peonies, and More!_ . He was aware that it was a mouthful, but it fit. Pete could not wait for the opening day.

The bell rang, indicating that someone entered the shop. Pete looked around at the sound.

“Hey ‘Peter’,” said Joe, taking in the scent of 50 different sorts of flowers.

“Joseph!,” Pete grinned, “How nice of you to come and help right after I finished unloading.”

Joe shrugged and ran his hand over the wooden counter.

“Looks good, dude,” he said, now leaning on it, “Why are you a florist again? A guy like you is more likely running a tattoo parlour, like the one across the street.”

“Listen, flowers are totally manly!” Pete protested. “Also, you know I can’t draw for shit, have you seen the sign out in front?”

Joe looked out of the window, as if remembering the plaque, then nodded in agreement.

“And, I can grow weed properly, unlike you,” Pete snickered. Both of them remembered Joe's pitiful attempt, that ended in him giving up saying “whatever, I’ll just get mine from Brendon”.

“Speaking of weed,” Joe piped up, “Where is that section of your store?”

“Nowhere, I am trying to run a completely legal business here,” Pete said.

“Whatever you say, dude,” Joe shrugged again. “You need help with anything else?”

“You could give me a hand unpacking the pots,” Pete pointed at the boxes.

“Pots,” Joe snickered at the weed reference.

Pete tried to give him his best stern face, trying not to laugh with him. Joe threw his hands in the air.

“Alright I’ll do it,” he said and opened the first box.

////

After the last box was on the shelves, Pete executed the best high five of this century, which Joe did not follow through with.

“I’m calling it a day,” announced Pete, and Joe looked over to the clock.

“We missed 4:20,” he said, shoulders slumped.

“Sorry, dude,” Pete said, grabbing his hat and wallet from the behind the counter.

Joe put his hand on Pete’s shoulder.

“My work here is done. I’m going to make up for the lost blaze time,” he said.

“Not bad, Joe, see you tomorrow,” Pete waved as Joe left his store, the bell ringing once more.

Pete looked over the day’s work, and left the store, locking the door behind him.

“That’s a long name,” someone said. Pete turned around, immediately faced with someone who may be the cutest person he has ever seen. He looked over the man, his hipster glasses, delicate features, brownish hair, fedora, and at the blue eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry what?” Pete said, almost breathless.

“I said, that’s a long name,” the cutie repeated. Pete repressed the urge to say “yeah like my dick”, because no way was he going to embarrass himself this early.

“That’s an interesting inspiration,” the man said, as Pete realized he said that out loud. Shit.

Pete grinned at him and Fedora Man asked, “You own this place?”

“Yeah,” Pete said, “How did you know?”

“Oh, I saw you attaching that long ass plaque to the front,” he shrugged, “I work at the tattoo parlour over there.”

Pete looked at where Fedora was pointing at. Then at Fedora.

“You don’t look like someone that tattoos people for a living.” As far as Pete could tell, he didn’t have any tattoos himself. But who knows, he could have a tattoo on his penis for all Pete knew. That will require further investigation, he thought.

“I know, but you also do not look like a florist,” he said.

“You’ve got a point,” Pete agreed.

“From your multiple tattoos, I would think that you are the one drawing on people. I wouldn’t trust that assumption, though, considering that thing,” Fedora nodded at the logo Pete worked so hard on. Pete gasped.

“How dare you mock my artistry skills?” He feigned hurt, then looked at his flower display. “Not in front of my children, you monster!”

Fedora giggled at that, and Pete suddenly wanted a career change to Personal Comedian of This One Cute Boy.

“I’m Patrick, by the way,” he smiled.

“Thank God, I don’t have to call you Fedora in my head anymore,” Pete said as Patrick snickered.

“You’re… Peter?”

“No, just Pete.”

“That’s false advertising right there” Patrick says, causing Pete to scoff.

“I doubt the name of your parlour is any better.”

“It’s called _Tattoos by Patrick._ ”

“Actually?”

“No, that’s stupid, it’s _Spotlight Tattoos_ ”

“That’s false advertising unless you specialize in lamp tattoos.”

“You got me there,” Patrick sighs. Pete gets a great idea.

“Hey, Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a light switch? ‘Cause you turn me on,” Pete grinned. Patrick groaned.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Dude, that was great, admit it,” Pete said, lightly hitting Patrick’s shoulder.

“No, no it wasn’t,” he said, smiling.

“Whatever, I know you’re lying, dude” Pete said. Patrick looked at his phone.

“Shit! I gotta go, I forgot the reason I came here,” he said, “Can I borrow a carnation? It’s for a tattoo reference.”

"Give me a second," Pete said, opening the door to the store and walking in. He looked around, noticing one in a bouquet. He picked it out, and handed it to Patrick.

“Here you go, m’lady!” Pete grinned.

“Thanks Pete! You’re a lifesaver,” Patrick said, taking the flower. He began to walk back to his shop, “I’ll give it back to you! I promise I’ll take care of it.”

“Keep it!” Pete shouted back and watched as Patrick took off, back to the tattoo place.

As Pete walked to his car, he already began thinking of different, complicated tattoo ideas to put on his ass.


End file.
